


tissu chanceux

by asahinayuuta



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asahinayuuta/pseuds/asahinayuuta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she hides herself, <br/>in painted curtains and fresh sewn fabric<br/>she hides herself, <br/>in her own luck, which seems to never run out</p>
            </blockquote>





	tissu chanceux

;; her frame of flowers decorate even the most uneven angles of her

and vines dangle around her veins - outlining every flaw and every perfection ;;

\- she paints her fingers with blood - and her soul covered (hidden) in a woven blanket —

and that blanket is what covers the vines dangling around her and flowers that grow on her -

she hides herself well in several covers, in the darkness, but what she realizes, is that she will always have vexatious echos and distant worlds watching her. her main witness the moon; outlining every wrong she does, and every way she covers her real safe. **  
**

some say the actions she take are strong,

others say they are weak attempts to cover up something beautiful,

most say that every part of her is ugly ;;

you fell in love with the blanket she wore ::: and fell even harder, even more for the garden underneath

you fell in love with the complete complexity of the woman you met. no matter what she had to say to how you felt.

no one would realize that the blood she paints her nails with is her blood - if it was anything else, you realize, she would have used that to paint her flaws, but even that is flawed and unworthy of showing everyone.

she thinks the blanket that she wove and put on was more beautiful than the garden she had growing ;; she thinks this because the only possible way she could gain from this ‘rotting’ (to her) garden was to sell it away; but she was always stronger than making mistakes -

plus luck has always been on her side.

luck was what she wove her blanket out of ;; tissu chanceux ;;

there was always a certain power in the luck she had - a power that gave her everything she had, everything she needed.

;;

you want nothing more than to water this garden, to make her pure, but to lead a life she is proud of, you want to treat her in a way she call herself anything, any name she wants to give herself.

you have never felt as devoted to anything as you do her.

her so called cynical mind, her accused villainous actions - every part of her is one to work for -

whether they are the acclaimed parts of her, or the well hidden, tucked in ones, or the bruised ones, you feel the need to care for them, put them ahead of yourself at times, and learn each of them with the patience only you ever have been willing to provide.

you are careful, as if a bandage you make sure to only touch the outer surface until you know it’s safe, you know it won’t hurt anyone.

you are careful that what you do is for the greater good, and won’t hurt her. and you know that you have never felt the necessity of doing this with any other person. you know that secretly she means more than the moon to you – although she is the moon.

one dark side, no one will see a side often beaten, bruised, battered, broken, trodden, tortured, tormented,  and traumatized through trial ;; and an opposing side, shining, self important, showing, screaming, going unsuffered, and untouched – although connected to the dark side through a miserable core that cannot be broken without her breaking herself.

and you fell in love with the moon ;; and you surround her like a satellite.  

you study every important part of her, every unimportant part of her, just to prove that it could still have importance, and still be relevant.

maybe it’s how sick and tired of you she got, but she let you study her, let you learn her. – let you know her, the her she has been hiding ever since she was little. the her she covered it fabric, only to let you tear away at the blanket thread by thread and weave them through the vines, to an open woman, one who isn’t always ashamed of looking in the mirror anymore as long as she has the part of you in her that lets her know that even someone like you, can love someone like her, and not for the act she puts on but for who she is, not everything she wants to be and more.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - -

you look her in her eyes, and although they are red now, you can tell that at one point, at several points, you have seen them a strong blue, a beautiful blue that you love to see, but for now they are red, and although you’d prefer blue, you love to look at them, and in the end, they are all she will give you at the moment, but you can learn to appreciate that.

you twirl the rose matching the shade of her eyes in between your fingers, still not breaking eye contact. and with a sincere smile, hand it to her, with a kiss, one that only lasts few short seconds, one that leaves you craving more, but you take the messily placed kiss and leave it with the others she has shared with you.

“i love you too”, she speaks silently between red satin lips.


End file.
